


Authorized Developments

by Project0506



Series: Soft Wars [93]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Brothers, Character Study, Gen, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24488131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: It's Dogma's group's first shore leave on Coruscant.  Dogma wasn't looking forward to any part of it.
Series: Soft Wars [93]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775
Comments: 63
Kudos: 470
Collections: Randomness





	Authorized Developments

**Author's Note:**

> So an anon wanted to see Dogma getting adopted, maybe from Jesse's POV of the anxious baby. This... ended up not being that. Someone else asked, 1.125 metric yonks ago, to see vode taking care of their new brothers on their first trip to Coruscant. This... ended up not quite being that either. So, yanno, par for the course. :D

There’s been five steps of Coruscant under his boots before Dogma is cut off from the herd.

It’s neatly done. Precise. Subtle. Dogma glances at the hand on his shoulder, up to the pleasant, tattooed face. He’s thought a lot of things about Lt Jesse in the weeks since he’d been assigned to Torrent. Subtle was never one of them, with how loud he usually was about responsibility and the abundance thereof. But then, he’s an officer. It’d make sense he’d have different layers, rather than the one he shows the troopers.

But if he wanted Dogma, why didn’t he just order him over?

The clatter of shiny white Privates trundle along unaware that a predator has snaked through and snatched one of their own. Or. Or snatched someone from the edges of their group anyway. At the far end of the hangar, the Domino Cpls split the wave between themselves and hustle them away. Supervised groups, for their first time on Coruscant, for their first trip to 79s that no one’s been able to stop talking about.

None of them has ever gotten drunk before. Dogma knew things would get out of hand. He reviewed the regs beforehand even if no one else wanted to hear that. It was for _their_ benefit too; _Dogma_ already knew what the regs said! But no, they wanted to run _wild and free_ , as if not knowing when curfew was or where clone-authorized areas ended would mean they wouldn’t get in trouble for it.

He’s glad that someone’s chaperoning. He’s ashamed he’d assumed they wouldn’t, considering all the regs broken regularly.

He’s… he’s not sure how he feels, that none of the others even notice he’s missing.

Cpl Fives has an arm around Tup’s neck and is marching him away. Dogma wants to think he’s squirming a little, maybe trying to look around for Dogma. He probably isn’t. Cpl Fives is probably just squeezing too hard. He does that sometimes, to try to make Tup punch back.

Dogma doesn’t know what that feeling is, or why it makes him want to yell until everyone is looking at him. If he yells, maybe everyone would listen. He doesn’t. “Sir,” he says, and tries to salute. It’s hard, with Lt Jesse’s hand on his shoulder. He can’t stop the twist of his mouth. “Sir you are not in regulation uniform.”

He’s in coarse canvas jacket and pants, collar high on the neck, sleeves tucked into gloves and legs tucked into socks. The whole thing is splotched a gradient from white to black. It looks tactical. Comfortable. But wrong.

“Technically, Private, shore leave starts when you put your _leaves_ on the _shore_ ,” the Lt says nonsensically, drawled like he usually does. “Come on there vod’ika you can drop the sir stuff. Nothing in the manual that says you _can’t_ dress like you want when you’re not on duty.”

“Yessir. And nossir. But we’re on call-”

“We’re on Coruscant,” Lt Jesse corrects and bumps Dogma’s shoulder. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t know what he looks like, but the Lt moves a step away. “Okay how about this. We might be on call, but that’s still not on duty. And if we got called on duty tonight, it means that the 212th in orbit let something through. Me wearing shell right now? That’s me calling Commander Cody a hack. And _that’s_ against regs, isn’t it?”

“Yessir.” There’s logic in there, somewhere, painful as it sounds. “But _I’m_ going to stay in shell sir. Regs say I can.” Regs, technically, say he _should_ but he can already feel that conversations with the Lt will go in circles til Dogma ends up doing what the Lt wants anyway. The Lt should just make it an order. It’d save time.

“Hardcase, Fives and I were talking some.” There’s another repulsorlift on on the near side of the hangar, tucked back away behind the fuel pumps. Bare durasteel floors and walls, inner doors are grating. There are large ranges of floors not listed on the panels. Freight, probably, and not meant to stop at residential levels. “And we think maybe you didn’t look real excited to see the club. That’s fine, of course. Not everyone thinks amassing blackmail’s a good time.”

It’s not fine, because Dogma was the only one who wasn’t. Dogma was the only one not talking about the people they’d _meet_ the things they’d _do_. Dogma was the one no one expected to contribute, and had promptly proved everyone right.

The floors pass by in ribbons of light squeezing between and under doors. Dogma counts them down. Uses the seconds to try to estimate how many floors don’t have doors at all. He tries not to check against the number of floors the selection panel doesn’t have; that’s cheating.

“But since a couple of us aren’t going either, we thought you might wanna roll with us instead. That way you don’t have to stay in barracks. Echo says to tell you it’ll be a lot less sticky. And Fives said to say you’d have the best Taungsday night story of any of the Privates. So? Are you in?”

He doesn’t sound like he’s mocking. He doesn’t sound like he finds it funny, like he thinks Dogma’s either joking or is the joke. And the Domino Cpls have all tried being really kind to him and Tup.

“You can stay in the barracks if you want,” Lt Jesse says and his words are slow and thoughtful. “Or we can still catch up with Fives.” He’s staring at Dogma’s face; it must be doing that thing again. He’s gotten used to Tup telling him when he’s doing it. He doesn’t remember to check for himself anymore.

Lt Jesse brushes a hand over the panel. The dimmed floor numbers light up, and the lift shudders to a halt.

“Private,” he says and one hand stays on the lift buttons and the other goes towards Dogma’s shoulder but pulls back at the last moment. Lt Jesse tucks it into a pocket. Dogma can’t quite make out what his tone means. The Lt’s face is serious, like he is when roughhousers in their classes go too far. “What was it you wanted to do tonight? You only get one first shore leave, you should spend it how you want.”

“I’m available for any-”

“Not the question Shiny.”

Irritation bubbles thick in his throat. He’s _been_ in campaigns! He’s only still shiny because Torrent keeps putting Privates on the back line, doing reloads or stock loading or assisting medics or establishing base camp. It _grates_. Dogma swallows it back down.

What Dogma would like to do would be to go back on duty. There’s a rotation that’s starting resupply, for when next the Resolute needs to leave. He’d like to make sure they get everything, and not try to sneak things on board that could get someone reprimanded.

He’s already been told by Captain Rex himself that he’s not allowed on duty during first rotation. He might not even be allowed for any of the first ten. There’s other things he’s supposed to want to be doing.

“You’ve got all of Coruscant-”

“Actually,” Dogma’s interrupted before he even knew he would. “There are very clear regulations regarding where clones-”

“Okay. Fine. You’ve got a _relatively_ _small_ bit of Coruscant, but all of _that_ is open to you. Isn’t there anything you wanted to see?”

The Senate. But clones aren’t allowed there, unless they’re on duty. There wasn’t anything else, except keeping Tup out of trouble.

“It’s fine sir.” But Lt Jesse still looks blank and feels like worry. “I want to. To go. I don’t want to stay in barracks.” That much he knows. He doesn’t want to go to a bar, and he doesn’t want to stay in barracks.

“Okay,” the Lt says, but slowly, like it isn’t really okay at all. “But if you change your mind you let us know right away, okay? We’ll get you back.”

“Yessir.” He won’t.

They go all the way down to one of the mid-levels, get out on a floor that’s all stone and high ceilings, but still somehow industrial. Dogma doesn’t see much of it: an open door to what looks like stock, rows of chute openings in one wall, vents carrying the hot-air-smell of newly cleaned fabric. There’s a side door ten paces down from the lifts that goes to outside.

It’s a hinged door, with a knob. Dogma’s never seen one before. He wishes he was brave enough to ask the Lt to stop. Not long. A minute maybe. Dogma wants to see how it works, how turning the knob moves the little catch. It seems inefficient. It swings on the hinges too. So much wasted floorspace, when you could just have doors that slid apart.

They stride through the doors, towards a speeder tucked neatly out of the way between two pillars with Lt Hardcase behind the wheel. Lt Jesse salutes a pointed, _rude_ kark-you to the red-shelled vod loitering deliberately by the windshield. Coruscant Guard, Dogma remembers. The Privates shared horror stories of what they’d do to you, if you caused trouble in their jurisdiction. They’d all seemed to agree to not get caught. It would be so much easier to just not cause trouble. Dogma’s not quite sure why that wasn’t an option.

“Cutting it close there, vode,” the Guard greets amiably. He taps the hood of the speeder with a pad of flimsi. “Three more minutes and I might have had an actual moment of fulfillment this week.”

“I know I’ve got at _least_ five left on the meter you asshole.” None of them seem to care that the guard is wearing a CC’s comms antenna and Lt Jesse is clearly CT. Dogma bites his tongue.

“501st just rolled out,” Lt Hardcase offers. “Should be hitting 79s in an hour.”

The Guard brightens. “Thanks! Torrent’s always good for at _least_ a drunk and disorderly. If someone buys shots we can probably get an indecent exposure.”

“And yet every damn vod in the GAR knows how far down Lt Hound’s tats go. Karking hypocrites.” Lt Jesse’s smiling and the Guard’s smiling back, so they must not mean what they’re saying. Even if they are showing a lot of teeth.

“Hey, hurry in,” Lt Hardcase mutters. “Thire’s gonna try to keep us here til the meter runs out and that’ll just make Jesse pissy.”

Dogma hurries in, across the back bench. His shell clacks unpleasantly against the buckles, and his knees have to bend up just too far to fit. Lt Jesse folds into the front passenger seat, and Dogma wishes he was wearing the canvas thing too.

Lt Hardcase revs the engine partway through the Guard saying something and pulls off before he can finish. “Karking Thire,” he laughs. “You know this means they’re setting up an ambush right?”

The Guard is watching them go, and he’s speaking into his comm. Maybe Dogma should have asked what it was Lt Jesse was planning to do tonight.

“Alive back there vod?”

The handles on the door are too narrow for Dogma’s hands to wrap around, wearing gloves. He slides around on the bench whenever Lt Hardcase takes a hard turn, or changes three lanes at a time. His stomach climbs up his neck, whenever the Lt changes lanes vertically. Dogma isn’t as familiar with driver’s code on Coruscant as he is with GAR regs, but he’d be willing to bet most of this isn’t allowed.

“Doing just fine sir.”

Lt Jesse meets his eyes in the mirror. Smiles, but it’s sharp.

“You’re an awful liar, Private. Remind me to work on that.”

“Dogma shoots carbines,” Lt Hardcase says, and Lt Jesse looks less sharp, more interested. “So you can pull back to sniper nest.”

“He any good?” he asks, as if Dogma can’t answer for himself.

“He couldn’t miss even if he wanted to.”

Lt Jesse meets his eyes again. He looks soft, as if what Lt Hardcase just said might not have been entirely the compliment it sounded like. “We’ll work on that too,” he promises. Dogma shifts, uncomfortable.

“What’s the objective?” he interrupts before it descends any further past what he can decipher.

“Objective? Objective is we get a bucket of paint rounds and two hours on a Playground course the Guard chose. They’ll have set up for us and they’re going to cheat like a third-hand speeder sales droid.” Lt Hardcase cackles and there’s no mistaking that he sounds thrilled. “All we have to do is light those assholes up blue, and _not_ get lit up red. Easy"

"We win, we get blackmail we use to keep them from officially booking any of our drunk and stupid morons they pick up this leave cycle. We lose and… well. We _haven’t_ lost yet. I won’t be happy if we start now.” Lt Jesse's still smiling, but he sounds serious.

“Try to have fun,” Lt Hardcase starts, and Lt Jesse interrupts him.

“Try to _win_. If you end up having fun, good for you.”

Simple, Dogma thinks. And yes, much better than drinking stinging things at sticky tables with loud people smelling sour.

“We’ll win, sir,” he vows. They’re going to give him a carbine, and once upon a time Dogma practiced with one until he couldn’t miss.

The officers smile back at him.

“Good, kid,” Lt Jesse says. “If you nail Thire, I’ll buy you dinner. Nail him somewhere humiliating and I’ve got a squad slot with your name on it.”

Lt Jesse stopped touching Dogma when he saw he didn’t like it. Hasn’t called him Shiny again, after the first time. Checked, to see if Dogma wanted to go back to bunk. Is checking even now, and Dogma knows somehow Lt Jesse’s very close to making Lt Hardcase turn the speeder around.

He might like working for Lt Jesse, Dogma thinks. “I’ll get him across the rear for you sir,” he decides, and both officers’ smiles get nicer. He thinks he likes what that might mean.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Painted Charter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24951412) by [PaxDuane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxDuane/pseuds/PaxDuane)
  * [Hit Me With Your Best Shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211373) by [Gobayern16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gobayern16/pseuds/Gobayern16)




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